A month in India, part 2: R... Rajkumar.

Prabhudeva began his directorial career with the spry revitalisation of the Maine Pyar Kiya plot in the Telugu favourite Nuvvostenante Nenoddantana, and continued his directorial exploits in the South, before smashing onto the Hindi scene with Wanted, a Southie remake, but a badass one at that. I was a fan from the get-go, liking his visual, bombastic masala style, alongside the amazing choreography that his films always seemed to have. To pair him up with Shahid Kapoor, an excellent leg shaker in his own right, and add a bit of roughness to him in the action masala format - this all seemed like the recipe of a great movie.

R.. Rajkumar has a story that is almost so forgettable that I've actually forgotten the details, aside from the barebones plot structure - Shahid plays a hoodlum who joins forces with gratuitously shirtless villain Sonu Sood, mostly for monetary reasons. Things get tricky when Sonu Sood takes an interest in the daughter of the corrupt politician he's in cahoots with, who just happens to be the same girl (played by hapless, why-am-I-stuck-in-these-roles Sonakshi Sinha) Shahid's character has been relentlessly harassing for most of the movie. What's going to happen? Spoilers: the poster kind of says it all.

I suppose I should really thank the movie for spinning such a simplistic tale, as it made it very easy to follow with my beginner's Hindi skills in the cool southern Mumbai multiplex I saw this film at. Sonu Sood was great as ever, and the songs were the soundtrack to the rest of my trip, but the positives kind of run out there. What bothered me the most was the absolutely relentless, inexcusable sexual harassment by the main character, portrayed as romantic. You could say this has become an Indian film trope, and especially following the movement to make India safer for women, this trope has been called out - films may just be films, but the women on India's streets who suffer sexual harassment every day of their lives do know the effect that portraying this trope as romantic has on society. It's been a while since I've seen such a blatant example of "eve-teasing" disguised as a romantic subplot. There isn't even the slightest hint of Sonakshi's Chanda liking the main character, and he invades her personal space, doesn't take "no" for an answer, and it's just so, so off-putting.

It's also just completely unnecessary. Why can't she like this guy from the get go? Why can't they have meet-cute and then begin a bickering chemistry, which would largely serve the same function, but take away the icky issues with consent (she said no, so back off, buddy)? You could still have the songs, the arguments, even the slap scene that seems so pivotal, going by the times it's referenced back to.

I hate to turn my back on a guy I once listed as one of my top five directors, alongside such favourites as Manmohan Desai and Shankar, but I'm afraid it's come to this. I barely remember watching Rowdy Rathore, even though I know I did. This one didn't fare much better, though I still enjoy the soundtrack (and Ghandi baat is a song that will always be on my "India trip" playlist). If he insists on spicing his original films with these sorts of off-putting, regressive tropes, I'm just not interested - I like my action masala, but I also like a modicum of respect from the hero towards the heroine. This isn't a tall ask. It really isn't.

Lootera: robbed of attachment.

Lootera is an atmospheric period drama with many good facets; the music, the cinematography and the acting all stand out as great. In the backdrop of 1950's India, a somewhat sheltered landowner's daughter falls in love with an archaeologist visiting her father's land. Things unfold slowly, and the film does a good job of showing things, rather than telling. The young actors, Sonakshi Sinha and Ranveer Singh, do really well in their roles - there's a new maturity in both of them that shows what they're capable in the hands of a good director.

With all these things going for it, I was surprised at myself for not loving this film - or perhaps not as much surprised as disappointed. The thing is, as the undercurrent of tragedy in this tale of love become a prominent feature of the story on the latter half, I heard sniffling around me in the half-empty film festival screening, and then I realised it - I wasn't emotionally engaged with the film, unlike these other viewers. I wasn't emotionally engaged at all. I wasn't living through the story with the characters, like you do in a particularly good film, but instead, I felt as if I was looking at them from the outside.

There are a few reasons for this, but I feel like biggest reason was probably the way that the story references changes in landowner (zamindari) law and the way the newly independent India was changing its societal structure, chipping away at the privileged class whose fortunes had been handed down to them, generation through generation. Sonakshi's character Pakhi comes from this very privileged upbringing - she's always had everything, and early on in the film there's a scene where she uses her social standing to benefit her in a rather manipulative way, against one of her servants. This is not a horrible scene, but it rubbed me the wrong way - if I was supposed to sympathise with this character, that scene established her as spoiled and unlikable. When Ranveer's character Varun enters the picture and falls for her, I found myself wondering why he likes her so much. I couldn't emerge myself in their love story, so when it unfolds into heart-wrenching drama, I was just left sitting there, watching, thinking, "Yeah, okay, so now this is happening I guess." Detached. The one thing you don't want to be in a film of this kind.

It's unfortunate, and it's possibly one of those things that's changed in me over the years. I'm going to sound like a Marxist when I type this but I can honestly say that having a perspective on things like societal or economic class is something I've gained in the past couple of years when it comes to Indian films. It's not something I've really thought about before. Of course, it's not something I think about all the time, with every movie - I'm perfectly fine with following the lives of the hyper-privileged in my fluffy Indian entertainment. On the other hand, when a film references changing times and then doesn't explore the topic in an intelligent way, or adequately to my liking, I guess I lose some of my enjoyment of the film. Lootera is wonderful in many ways, but I wasn't attached to it, and in the greater scheme of things, that's probably both on me and the film itself.

Remake-mania or manic remakes? Rowdy Rathore and Siruthai.

Both based on the Telugu hit Vikramarkudu, I watched Rowdy Rathore and Siruthai in conjunction with one another, and not by accident. It just so happened that I didn't have the luxury of working subtitles for the Tamil version (Siruthai). After watching Rowdy, I figured I could follow the gist of the story and compare the performances, and began watching. Even without having seen the Telugu original, it was interesting to see both of the remakes that followed it. 

I'm not one to discourage Indian film industries from remaking each other's films, as its a tried-and-tested formula, and gives interesting, new stories different audiences, and bigger audiences. I do wonder though, are some of these remakes perhaps even too fateful to the originals? It seemed as if these movies shared absolutely everything - the highlights as well as the low points. 

The plot kicks off with our hero, Shiva in the Hindi version (played by Akshay Kumar), a thief, stealing things and falling in love with our heroine Paro (Sonakshi Sinha). Eventually a young girl emerges, who insists that Shiva is her father, and from there the story snowballs into an action masala one, filled with horrifying villains, dance numbers, gory violence and duplicates. 

The comedic sidekick in the Hindi version isn't very funny and thus the beginning feels like it's lagging desperately. The romantic comedy portion of Shiva and Paro falling in love isn't quite as amusing as I would've liked, either, and so I was just waiting for the film to get going. Eventually it does, in quite a spectacular manner, and the backstory gives good pay-off as well, but I just never felt like I was too in love with the film. And trust me, I really wanted to be. I mean, Akshay doing an action role with Prabhudeva in the director's seat? Yes, please, more.

Yet something just didn't click with me. It's certainly a passable entertainer, down to great fight choreography (though be warned for gory violence) and fantastic song numbers, in which the music, for whatever reason, reminded me of 90's Bollywood. And in my books, that's only a good thing. There were also a number of delicious cameos in the songs, which I enjoyed a ton. Still, I can't help but feel a bit disappointed. Maybe there's some room for improvement in Sonakshi's acting? I like her, but Akshay definitely outperformed her here, and while the heroine role in the story is a pretty thankless one, she just didn't impress me, so I never felt their chemistry as much as I'd have liked.

Rowdy Rathore is a film I'd recommend for a viewing (if you're into Southie remake action masalas), but wouldn't list among my favourites of last year. It's a shame, because I really wanted to like it more. 

Siruthai had a lot of things going for it (the Paiyaa coupling Karthi-Tamanna as the leads, and everybody's favourite new Tamil comedian, Santhanam as the comedic sidekick) but in the end my thoughts on this film are largely similar to that about Rowdy Rathore. The plot points are replicated so loyally that in Siruthai, the beginning moves slowly as well, and it feels as if the film only really gets going about an hour in.

Of course, the sad thing about not having subtitles for this film was that it made me miss out on the comedy of Santhanam, who I've really grown to like as of late. While some comedians are pretty physical, or very expressive in their faces, making the comedy translate even when there's no subtitled translation or if the subtitles are very unclear. Santhanam's comedy tends to lean towards the more verbal side, however, and having no familiarity with the Tamil language, I was forced to miss out. It's a shame, because in every role I've seen him in thus far, I've really enjoyed him in.

Now, this was my first taste of Karthi in full on masala mode. Paiyaa was masala, too, but his character in it was a rather stern, serious type, whereas Siruthai features some broad comedy besides the action and the romance. I'm not yet sold on the guy - he seems to have the bright-eyed charm of his brother Surya, but he's not quite there yet for me in terms of really selling it. He was merely okay in here, and while I won't mind watching him in the future, I doubt I'll be rushing to get more of his films.

Tamanna was once again a charming presence in a rather flimsy role. She continues to be one of my favourite actresses making a career in the Southern industries (ironic, since much like my former Southie favourite, Jothika, Tamanna is also a Northern girl - she hails from Mumbai). As sadly often in Southie films, it feels like she was there for a bit of romcom and then for the songs, which is a shame, since it's clear she's capable of more substantial roles as well. Regardless, the songs are fun, if fairly forgettable.

In some ways, the near-carbon copy-like remakes the different industries churn out are a commendable effort. Why change a winning formula? I certainly didn't want the Tamil remake of 3 Idiots to alter the plot, because the plot and writing was so good as it was. Of course, you run the risk of replicating the problems, too, as I feel like happened with these two remakes - I've read reviews where people complained the original had a slow beginning as well. But maybe rather that than trying to fix issues and failing to do so, just do the best job you can, replicating the original - it seems that's what both the Hindi and Tamil remakes did here.